


it begins in red

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Meetings, Hunter!Hux, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Noble!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: A strange man with strange powers interrupts Hux's hunt.Set inrhole'sRed Riding Hux AU.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	it begins in red

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request finished for [rhole](https://twitter.com/mjrjt) on twitter. Thanks so much for the prompt, dear, hope you like it!

Armitage Hux slunk quietly through the emerald brush of the forest, not allowing even the disturbance of a slightly elevated breath to pass his lips, lest it alerts a single soul to his presence. His red cloak fanned out behind him, similarly light and fluttery as a drop of blood dispersed in oil. 

It was the first clear day after nearly a week of rain, and the sun shone bright-white, almost blindingly so, above, light changing to a pale, fresh green as it shimmered through the trees above. The heavy boughs and thick, rich fruit, swelling with the full benefits of the downpour, cast shadows upon the grass, creating a banded pattern of light and dark stripes. It reminded Hux of an exotic animal he’d once witnessed for sale at one of the local meat markets. According to the salesman parading the creature about in a dejected trot, the flesh tasted delicious, and would melt like sugar in one’s mouth. 

But Hux wasn’t one for such indulgences. He was a hunter by trade, by _necessity_ , but hardly cared to spend his hard-earned crowns on rich meats and other fancy foodstuffs. When it came to his own needs, he caught only what he required to survive, what meat was hardy enough to survive hours drying salted in the sun and weeks jostling about in his rucksack. 

Rarer game, he hunted only when a handsome reward was promised.

Hux had finally spotted his current target last week, right before the storm rolled in and forced him to take shelter. And while the rain may have washed away tracks and scent that a lesser hunter would rely on, Hux was no novice. Despite the setback, he was back on the trail, rapidly closing in on his unusual prey. 

A wolf of unnatural size, black fur carrying a sheen of iridescence visible only in direct sunlight. He had glimpsed it for only a moment, but to him, the wolf looked like if you cut him open, there wouldn’t be any meat inside—only layers of glossy, unassuming obsidian. He didn’t know why the wolf was valuable, if it had to do with anything else other than the single striking feature of its coloration. But with such a high price advertised for its head, Hux found he didn’t care. 

He tip-toed across the grass, soft-soled boots inaudible. He disturbed nary a single leaf or butterfly perched, relaxed, on the flowers of the forest brush. His bow bobbed against his shoulder, quiver rustling softly with his remaining arrows as he slowed to a halt on the edge of a large, well-sunned clearing. 

Hux stilled, this time not even daring to breathe through his mouth. The wolf had paused to rest near a smooth rock in the middle of a clearing. Hux watched it sniffle around the budding flowers near the base of the stone. In the sunshine, its fur glowed like some kind of exotic seashell, the light bringing out the rich purples and chrome blues in the wolf’s fur, shade of the colors shifting almost imperceptibly in the light flutter of the breeze. Its deep green eyes were fixed forward as it shuffled around, as if looking for something. It was distracted, providing the perfect opportunity to strike. 

As he twirled an arrow out of his quiver and fitted it to the notch of his bow, Hux felt a slight pang of guilt. He considered himself a fairly respectful hunter, not killing in excess or gloating over his prizes with inordinate pride, lording his superiority over the animals he brought down. But still, he didn’t tend to feel much sympathy for their deaths. He had to hunt to eat, to bring in enough money to survive. There was nothing personal to it, no overwrought sense of sentimentality he agonized over while trying to sleep. And yet, as he took aim at the wolf, the tip of his arrow glinting in a brief patch of sunlight, Hux almost wished the reward for killing this beautiful beast wasn’t so high that it couldn’t possibly be ignored. 

Closing one eye, Hux shot a quick prayer for good luck, and let the arrow fly. 

But no sooner had it left his hand, the sharp _thrum_ of the bowstring cutting through the air, than the sound of heavy hoofbeats and snapping twigs behind Hux flew to his ears. Startled, Hux jerked his bow, sending the trajectory of the arrow off-target. It zipped through the air, missing the wolf’s flank by a wide margin and _thunking_ against a tree on the opposite side of the clearing. The wolf’s head jerked up and, before Hux could even think about notching another arrow, bolted from sight, until the only evidence of its presence was the lingering scent and the soft rustling of the bushes ringing the clearing.

It took a moment to sink it. Hux stared at the empty place where the wolf had been, a hollow feeling creeping up in his gut. _Weeks_ of tireless hunting—wasted. He had no way of knowing when he would catch up with the wolf again, whether the current stock of meat and water in his pack would be enough to sustain him for more, potentially fruitless days of pursuit. Anger and frustration pushed through the gnawing hole in his stomach, until it was all he could focus on. 

The buzzing in Hux’s skull was so loud, so numbing, that he almost didn’t pay attention to the increasing sound of the hoofbeats as they drew nearer and nearer. He didn’t react at all, in fact, until a human voice finally cut through the suffocating fog of his failure. 

“Ho, there! What are you doing all the way out in the wilderness, little Red?”

Hux whirled about to face the speaker. What he found was a man as well-muscled and darkly-haired as the horse he rode atop of. Surprise briefly cut through the dense knot of Hux’s anger, though it flared back when the man shot him a cavalier smile. 

“What? Are you mute? Or perhaps one of those odd forest hermits people tell stories about?” The man raised an eyebrow, bringing his horse to a halt with a few paces still between them. Hux stared in disbelief, as the man dismounted effortlessly, greaves clinking as he sunk into the still-damp earth. Hux’s lower lip trembled, eyes fixed on the stranger as he started to swagger towards him. 

Hux realized he should probably muster up some kind of response, but every little, progressive detail that he noticed about the man in front of him only angered him further. For one, he was dressed in finery that one would only ever find in the central neighborhoods of the city, among the nobles and wealthy mercenaries. He had fine, silvery greaves that glinted in the sunlight that filtered between the leaves of the trees, a leather belt that looked brand new, and silken waves of dark hair that looked well-cared for, perfumed and combed, probably by a servant’s hands. The long, azure cloak he wore was lush and velvet-lined, far nicer than Hux’s red one, which was dirtied at the hems and had a hole he wiggled his finger through whenever he felt irritated or impatient. The stranger bore an emblem on his tabard that Hux vaguely recognized as the symbol of the Organa royal household, confirming his suspicions. 

The man who had scared off his quarry, ruined his hunt, robbed him of his deserved bounty, was nothing more than a privileged, spoiled brat. 

Hux ground his teeth together, knowing it would be foolish to round on someone who could have him dragged back to the city and executed for insolence, but he couldn’t stop himself from brandishing the hunting knife and shouting:

“What in the _hells_ is your problem?” 

The man stopped, blinking in confusion. 

“What? Did I do something? Cause you some inconvenience? You looked like you were just standing there.”

“Some—some inconvenience?” Hux spluttered, raising his voice as his cheeks grew nearly as red as his cloak. “What makes you think it’s a good idea to sneak up on a man and take him unawares? Especially when he’s in the middle of a hunt? I could’ve shot you through the head.” Hux was almost regretting that he hadn’t. There was something about this man’s confident attitude that he found brazenly irritating.

“Ah. Is that what you were doing?” The stranger shook his head and tutted. “Skulking in the bushes to get a scrap of meat. Not even a single trained dog to flush out game for you.”

Hux bristled. “And? What of it?” He didn’t particularly care about what the stranger said about him, but if this man valued his life, he wouldn’t test Hux’s patience further. Not after Hux had lost his prey due to such thoughtless interference. 

“It’s just a shame, is all. If you had dogs or even a horse, whatever you were hunting would probably be trussed up and butchered for the market right about now.”

“I would’ve been able to kill it, if it weren’t for you crashing through here like a stupid, blinded beast!”

“Whoops. Sorry about that, then,” the man said as he held up a defensive hand, not sounding very apologetic at all to Hux. “No hard feelings, right?”

Hux’s stance tensed as the man continued to walk closer, apparently not sensing that Hux was _not_ in the mood to be approached right now. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux glimpsed the handle of his hunting dagger strapped to his leg. It would take him a split second to whip the blade out of its sheath. If the stranger didn’t take the hint and leave Hux alone, he would be dead before he hit the ground. Not that it was smart to lay a hand on a man that could be royalty. Perhaps Hux could just scare him off. 

“You know, you could stand to be a little friendlier, Little Red,” the man commented, keeping up with the patronizing nickname that Hux found he was already starting to hate. 

“Why should I be friendly to the man who cost me a five hundred crown bounty?”

“Only five-hundred crowns? You’re out here hiding in the dirt for that kind of chump change?” The man snorted. “Pretty little thing like you could do a lot better than that. It’s a shame.”

That tore it. Before the man could take another step closer or lob another condescending insult in Hux’s direction, he moved. The hunting knife appeared in his hand, bone and rawhide handle abrading the material of his gloves as he gripped it tight and lunged for the stranger. 

But before Hux could land a blow, the tips of the man’s fingers brushed up against his tunic, and something bright red and _hot_ exploded in his face. Before Hux could dodge or even cry out, a surge of energy slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. He sailed through the air, narrowly missing crashing into a tree before he landed harshly on the ground. A cough ripped out of him, his lungs and throat aching from the abrupt lack of air. 

“Wow. That was a really bad idea, Red.” The stranger’s voice called through the ringing in Hux’s ears. Hux was not so rattled that he couldn’t pick out the condescension in his tone, and despite the sudden headache throbbing through his skull his fury flared up once again. Hux pushed himself up off the ground, grass and old leaves clinging to his tunic and trousers, red cloak fanned out around him like an outpouring of his rage. The blow had been so harsh, so powerful, that it had knocked loose the fastenings keeping his hood on, but Hux didn’t have time to fix it. He glared up at the man, who stood in a stance that told Hux he didn’t take him at all seriously. Only now, he had his arm extended, his palm outwards and glowing with a faint bluish sheen. 

“What...what in the hells did you do to me?” Hux gasped, swaying to his feet. Thankfully, he hadn’t lost his knife in the fall, but he held off on trying for a second strike for now. He didn’t know what kind of sorcery this man was using, but he had heard rumors of nobles with mysterious abilities that hailed from the central hub of the capital city. If the man truly was a member of the House Organa, then…

Then perhaps those rumors were true. 

“Stopped you from trying to stab me, for one.” The man dusted off his shoulder with a disapproving hum. “That was really rude. Do you always stab everyone when you first meet them?” His eyes flitted to Hux’s disheveled hair. “Guess gingers really are fiery, like they say…”

“If I feel they’re a threat, then _yes_.” Hux rasped, ignoring the man’s comment on his hair color. His eyes narrowed. “And you’ve evolved from a nuisance into _just that_.”

Thinking quickly, Hux jammed his fingers into his mouth and let out a high-pitched, piercing whistle that cut through the still forest air. Years of practice had allowed him to perfect it, the ideal pitch to scare off unwanted predators. 

The man flinched slightly at the noise, looking perturbed at best, but he wasn’t Hux’s target. Behind him, Hux saw the man’s horse jolt, nostrils flaring and hooves pawing at the earth, loud whinny drawing away the man’s attention. 

“What the—woah, hey!” he said as he grappled for the horse’s reins. The horse, spooked by the hunting call, reared up, forcing the man to dodge its swinging forelegs. 

That gave Hux the perfect opportunity to strike. 

Before the stranger could turn back around or summon that strange power to his fingertips again, Hux leaped on top of him, his weight bringing the stranger down on his back against the forest floor. He let out a grunt as his head thumped against the damp loam, dark hair fanning outwards in messy curls. Hux quickly straddled him, pressing the edge of his blade up against the man’s throat in warning. 

“Don’t move. Don’t try anything,” Hux hissed, pressing the dagger into the man’s skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood right beneath where stubble was starting to fade in after the morning’s shave. “Any more of that mystic nonsense and the only way you’re getting back to your family is as a head dangling from the horn of your horse’s saddle.”

“That...was a dirty trick, you know,” the man said tensely, though he still sounded far too jovial for someone with a knife pressed up against his throat.

Hux sniffed. “So was yours.”

“You know, if you take the time to actually get to know me, instead of trying to kill me, you might find that my magic is a lot more than a dumb little _trick_.” The man had the gall to _wink_ up at Hux, smiling even as the edge of the hunting blade bit further into his impudent throat. “You know, now that I’m up close, I can see you really have beautiful eyes.” He lifted his hand, reaching up towards Hux’s face. “Has anyone ever told you that before, Little Red?”

“Shut up!” Hux snarled, and before he could stop himself he slashed a line across the man’s palm, cutting through leather and biting all the way down to the bone. But instead of blood, a flood of something bright and blue came pouring out of the wound. Hux yelled out in surprise, dropping the blade as the body beneath him vanished, all flesh and clothing and armor suddenly dissolved into a swarm of—butterflies?

“ _Agh_!” Hux cried, throwing up his hands to shield his eyes as the brilliant insects fluttered all around him like exploded shards of glass, their silky wings brushing against his face as they streamed upwards, through the trees and up towards the sun. Hux blinked rapidly when they were all gone, slowly lowering his arms to look around. 

A bright, amused laugh reached his ears. His head snapped up to see the stranger once again atop his horse. Now a good distance away, he raised his hand and waved coyly back at Hux. Even this far away, he could tell that the man’s palm was completely unscathed, his toothy smile practically sparkling with triumphant mirth. As Hux watched, one butterfly—in red, a departure from its brethren, came to land on the stranger's upraised forefinger. 

“Not today, Little Red, not today! Perhaps you should choose your next kill more wisely, huh?” the man shouted back, before turning around in the saddle and galloping away, vanishing into the underbrush just like the wolf had earlier. The red butterfly fluttered in his wake. 

Hux stared after him, stunned. With his anger momentarily gone, paralyzed even, Hux could do nothing more than glare listlessly at the spot where the man had vanished--and hope that maybe someday, he would meet up with him again.

If only so that Hux could properly enact his revenge. 

**Author's Note:**

> Things have been weird lately, and I'm not sure when I'll get back to regularly posting fic. Hopefully, inspiration will reignite my passion soon. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
